


Exonerated

by deluxekyluxtrashcan (rhoen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Eventual Smut, Forced Marriage, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Omega Armitage Hux, Omega Hux, Omega Verse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, suppressants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/deluxekyluxtrashcan
Summary: Hux has no idea he's an omega. The moment his father realised what his son was, he orchestrated a cover-up, employing as few people as possible to keep the secret hidden, including from Hux himself. For years Hux has remained clueless about his true designation – that is until Starkiller Base is destroyed, and Supreme Leader Snoke decides that he will be far more useful serving another purpose: becoming Kylo Ren's mate and providing powerful heirs to the Dark Side's legacy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **exonerate** /ɪɡˈzɒnəreɪt,ɛɡ-/ **verb** [with obj.]  
>      **1** (of an official body) absolve (someone) from blame for a fault or wrongdoing: _an inquiry exonerated those involved_ | _they should exonerate these men **from** this crime_.  
>      **2 (exonerate someone from)** release someone from duty (a duty or obligation).  
>  – ORIGIN late Middle English: from Latin _exonerat_ \- 'freed from a burden', from the verb _exonerare_ , from _ex_ \- 'from' + _onus_ , _oner_ \- 'a burden'.
> 
> -
> 
> This is for everyone who enjoys omega verse and mpreg. I have no idea how few and far between we are, but we exist and I'm losing the ability to hold back on writing this kind of content. If this _isn't_ your cup of tea, please feel free to close the tab and hunt down another fic to read.
> 
> In future chapters there will be: heats, knotting, breeding, mpreg, and pregnant sex. There will also be: cuddling, kissing, supportive partners, feels, probably some fluff, and maybe even a happy ending.
> 
> I would like to thank the long-suffering people who have put up with my constant bellyaching about this fic. You four know who you are, and I'm so grateful to you.
> 
> > Don't edit, translate or repost this work without my permission. You're welcome to link with a short snippet though.

The whole universe drops away sickeningly at Supreme Leader’s words. Hux tenses, trying desperately to hold on, waiting for everything to right itself. He feels dizzy. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.

But Snoke is smirking – a grotesque expression that strips every ounce of warmth and confidence from Hux with unerring ease. Hux opens his mouth, desperate to fight the sentence being handed down to him, but he can’t find the words he needs. His mind is blank, horror seizing him. Everything he’s ever worked for or believed in is being torn from him, and he’s powerless to stop it.

“You will, of course, have some time to prepare. There will be a ceremony, in two days’ time.”

Two days.

Hux feels like he’s about to be sick.

“Ensure all the necessary arrangements are made.”

There’s now nothing holding Hux up but years of experience. It’s only because the response is so deeply ingrained that Hux manages to force his voice past the constriction in his throat.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

He doesn’t even recognise the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t even recognise where he’s standing. It’s all too surreal.

Snoke is leaning back in his throne, looking satisfied. “Good. I expect this union to be most profitable.”

And with that, he fades, the holo flickering to nothingness. Hux stands, staring, as it happens, feeling every last fragment of hope dying with the projection. The audience chamber never felt so cold and empty. Only, it isn’t empty. To his left stands Kylo Ren, who is for once mercifully silent. Something in the back of Hux’s fractured mind warns him it won’t last, and despite the overwhelming urge to break apart and start screaming, or to run from the horrific judgement that has just been handed down, Hux manages to force himself to turn on his heel, marching away from the platform with as much composure as he can muster. It’s not much, but it’s enough. He manages to get out of the room before Ren says anything, although he can feel eyes on the back of his head every step of the way.

The only thing he knows how to do is return to duty, as if nothing is wrong. Usually it helps. Usually he can immerse himself in work, throwing himself at any problem that arises until he’s worked out at least four possible solutions, and attacking dreary reports with fervour that sees them all finished within record time. Usually he can do this – he’s General Hux of the First Order – only now he can’t, and he isn’t.

In two days’ time, everyone will know the truth. The demotion has happened already, but Hux will have to go through the ordeal again in open ceremony. He is going to be publicly and humiliatingly stripped of everything he thought he had – and to add insult to injury, he’s to arrange the ceremony in which it will all happen.

Soon everyone will know that, not only has he been relieved of command, but that he’s an omega, and is to become Kylo Ren’s broodmare.

\- – — – -

The trip to the medbay is the first of what Hux now understands will be a lifetime of humiliating and unbearable experiences. He’s angry at the deception, he’s angry at his father, and if it were in his power to do so he would slaughter everyone involved in the lie. He feels uprooted on the deepest level, and knows that this is a betrayal he will never recover from.

He’d had no idea about his true designation. Until Snoke revealed it, Hux had thought that he, like a good deal of other First Order officers, was a beta. He hadn’t known that the moment his father realised what Hux was he’d orchestrated a massive cover-up, just to save himself from the humiliation of having an omega in the family. From a young age Hux had been selected for greatness, and Brendol Hux wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of it. Medical personnel were enlisted to keep the secret, and all throughout Hux’s career his father had been pulling strings to keep his son’s status secret. It clearly wasn’t coincidence that the medical officer Hux had been registered to on Arkanis ended up assigned to the  _ Finalizer _ . Hux is on his way to see the same woman now, and he’s not sure how he’s going to restrain himself and refrain from violently assault the person who has been injecting him with suppressants and false hormones without his consent for more than half his life.

She, wisely, doesn’t speak. They both know why he’s there, and he tries to fill his mind with battle strategies best suited to humid grassland terrain rather than what’s happening to him. The drugs to counteract whatever is already in his system are almost painlessly administered, and he resents that his life is so easily taken away from him. He expected there to be more to the process than a quickly delivered cocktail of drugs.

The medic, as he stands to go, speaks out of turn.

“I have a family,” she rushes, sounding like she’s pleading. “A husband and two little boys. Well, they were… They’ll be twenty-three and twenty-five now. I… Your father…”

Hux turns sharply, fixing her with a cold glare. She withers, stammering and failing to get her next words out.

Hux knows, though. The pieces fall into place easily. He vaguely remembers two young children his father took a special interest in. The medic’s family aren’t on record. Brendol took them away, as collateral. Given how long they’ve been on board starships, Hux doubts the woman has seen her children in years.

He doesn’t respond. There’s nothing to say. Hux turns, stalking from the medbay as quickly as he can without running.

\- – — – -

Facing Ren is inevitable, but Hux could have done without it being now. He’s in his quarters, nursing an overfilled glass of the most expensive Corellian brandy he owns. Having just outlined the schedule for the ceremony, he needs to be alone. Impromptu speeches and broadcasts aren’t entirely out of the ordinary, but this one will be unforgettable. Hux doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the humiliation of it. The only small comfort is that his father is still alive, and will have to suffer the fallout. Bitterly, Hux promises that if the old man doesn’t get what he deserves, he’ll hunt him down and personally deliver it to him.

Ren seems completely oblivious to Hux’s need for isolation though. He lets himself in and proceeds to shatter what little calmness Hux had managed to collect. The scent of the alpha has always riled him up, and now is no exception.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Ren lies.

Hux snorts dismissively at the statement, raising the glass to his lips and hoping that if he ignores Ren the man will go away.

“I had no idea.”

Hux doesn’t take the bait. Even if Ren is telling the truth and didn’t know, what difference does it make? It doesn’t change a thing.

“It’s not something I wanted.”

That lie, somehow, needles Hux too much. He glowers at Ren, wishing he could inflict serious bodily harm with just a thought.

“Don’t play that game with me,” he snaps, spitting venom. “You always wanted to best me. You’ve always sought to bring me down and humiliate me. Well, now you have your golden opportunity. I hope you enjoy it while you can, because I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

Ren snarls, the sound low and dangerous. “Not this. I didn’t want it like  _ this _ : you handed to me on a platter as if you’re a slab of meat being thrown to a faithful pet.”

“So how do you want me then?” Hux yells back, too furious and hurt to look closely at Ren’s words – that’s exactly what’s happening in this situation, and he knows it. “Skewered on your kriffing lightsaber? Is that it? Torn apart by your hands after you – and you alone – have broken me completely? Is that the kind of victory you want?”

Ren takes two thunderous steps forwards and halts just in front of Hux, waves of anger rolling off of him. He seems about to strike – and Hux doesn’t care if he does; he has no intention of moving out of the way – when he stops abruptly. Hux can’t help feeling confused, and more than a little uneasy, when Ren’s expression slackens, as if all the anger and hostility is draining from him. His eyes close for a moment, and when they open they’re so alive with emotion Hux can’t possibly work out what he sees there, but they’re calmer. Ren’s whole countenance has shifted, and Hux is so surprised by it he doesn’t react.

“You’ve been betrayed,” Ren says simply. “I understand how that feels.”

For some reason, Hux is inclined to believe him, although he’s struggling to work out why Ren is telling him this.

“I can admit to enjoying the idea of your downfall, but not like this. Even you wouldn’t stoop so low as to do this to someone else.”

It’s a lie. They both know it. Hux would do anything to achieve his goals. He’s not sure why Ren allows him to have this, or why he’s extending what can only be a peace offering, but he supposes that in his position it would be unwise to refuse. He doesn’t exactly accept the gesture, but he nods tersely, and that seems to be enough for them both.

“And I really had no idea.”

“Do you think less of me now?”

The words falls unbidden from his lips, and now that he’s voiced them Hux doesn’t know how to take them back. Ren looks confused by the question, and tilts his head a fraction as if studying him.

“I don’t see any reason why I should.”

Hux is too troubled to feel anything like relief, but he gives the answer another nod, feeling the tiniest fraction of tension leave his body. At least Ren hates him regardless of designation. It’s rather noble of the alpha, he thinks somewhat bitterly.

They stand for several moments in complete silence, regarding each other closely. Hux soon loses interest in the confusing man, whose features he knows but hasn’t had a chance to become familiar with, and looks down at his drink.

“Hux?”

He looks up, surprised by the civility and softness of Ren’s tone.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are unnerving, and Hux quickly turns away, unable to school his features. He’s more angry than anything else, and he wants to fling his tumbler at Ren, screaming at the man for being so unfairly human all of a sudden. He can’t cope with the look of understanding and sympathy he caught in Ren’s expression. It’s not fair.

Ren, seeming to understand he’d reached the limit of Hux’s tolerance, leaves. Hux finds himself alone again, cradling his drink and fighting back tears as everything he thought he’d known twists and rots away before his very eyes.

\- – — – -

Ren turns up in Hux’s quarters again the following evening, after Hux has endured what has easily been one of the the worst days of his life so far. After a whole day of arranging what is essentially the end of his life, all the while masquerading as a General when, in reality, he’s nothing more than breeding stock dressed in uniform, he’s in no mood for company. Ren, though, has no regard for what other people want. He lets himself in again, and makes himself comfortable on the small sofa Hux reserves for no use whatsoever other than to make his quarters seem less sparse.

“We should talk,” Ren announces.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Hux counters. There’s also nothing he  _ wants _ to talk about.

Ren, annoyingly, hums in consideration. Hux can already tell he’s going to disagree.

“What about tomorrow?”

Hux really doesn’t want to talk about that. “What about it?”

Infuriatingly, Snoke has sent someone to officiate. They will arrive first thing, and depart after the ceremony. Hux supposes he should be grateful it’s not Snoke himself overseeing things, although he’ll no doubt be watching the broadcasts.

“Have you ever been to a binding ceremony before?”

Hux bites his tongue before answering: “No.” He doesn’t offer anything more than that, not explaining that they weren’t common on Arankis. There was usually very little pomp and circus around couples officially registering their bond, and as long as there was a paper trail most settled for a quiet affair.

“I have,” Ren states. “Proper ones – the nauseatingly opulent Alderaan affairs they’d hold on Coruscant.”

The alpha shrugs, summing up in one simple gesture what he thinks of the whole thing. While Hux might be glad that Ren will also hate this, he’s all too aware of the fact that Ren gets the infinitely better part of the deal.

“I assume we won’t be going to those lengths?”

Hux nods, hovering awkwardly. He hadn’t thought about the sofa. It will have to be moved. After tomorrow these will no longer be his quarters.

“I tried, you know,” Ren says vaguely. “I pointed out that, as you’re going to be mine, I want the best for you, and your quarters are the best on the ship.”

“He said no,” Hux deduces.

“He said no,” Ren confirms. 

He’s not sure if it’s touching that Ren tried, or if it speaks more about just how torturous this is going to be for Ren too. Probably the latter. The alpha doesn’t strike Hux as someone who shares well.

“Have you written the exchange?”

And the conversation is back to the ceremony. Hux scowls, still standing. He’d rather think about his useless sofa.

“Yes.”

“Can I see it?”

He’s going to see it eventually, Hux knows. Begrudgingly, he goes to fetch his datapad. He pulls up the succinct vows he’s chosen for them to say at the exchange of promises, and hands the thing over with a little more force than is needed. Ren reads slowly, humming. He hands the datapad back over with more care than Hux did.

“They’ll do.”

Hux snorts. “Oh, and what would you pick? Paragraphs detailing our undying love for each other?”

Ren’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he holds his hand out. “May I?”

Hux flings the datapad at him, turning and walking away. There’s an incessant gnawing pain in his stomach that hasn’t eased all day, and he’s finally decided it must be hunger. There’s a supply of compressed meal bars in his desk drawer, and Hux goes to fetch one, eating it without relish. The stodgy thing is unusually difficult to swallow, and he has to wash it down with water.

Over in the corner of his reception room, Ren is still tapping away at the datapad. When he’s done, he sits up a little straighter.

“How about this?”

He doesn’t hold the datapad out for Hux to read, forcing Hux to actually approach him. He peers at the screen, noting the changes and trying to decide if he’ll allow them or not. He supposes what Ren has written is a little less stiff than his own choice, but it’s not as if it matters. The union is a matter of convenience. Everyone knows that. The only issue Hux has is that it feels like a criticism of his efforts to have someone suggest something else.

In the end, though, he shrugs. “Whatever.”

Ren doesn’t acknowledge his allowance of the alteration, but he does keep quiet for several minutes, reading over the rest of the outline for the ceremony.

“I always liked fireworks,” he mumbles, catching Hux off guard.

“What?”

“At the end. The pyrotechnic display.”

“Well it’s obviously going to be used as promotional material for the Order. It has to look the part.”

Ren hums again, flicking back to the start of the schedule.

“Do you realise this is the longest time we’ve spent together without arguing?”

Hux narrows his eyes, seeing the seemingly casual observation as an invitation to start an altercation. He’s deeply alarmed by the fact they haven’t been throwing barbed insults at each other, in the very least, and even moreso by the fact he hadn’t noticed. It feels as if he’s lost another integral, even if annoying, part of himself. He supposes it’s testament to how compromised he is right now that he hadn’t realised.

“I quite like it,” Ren continues.

“Well good for you,” Hux snaps.

“Unless you want to argue,” Ren adds. “In which case…”

“What are you doing here?” Hux asks, cutting across whatever weird direction the conversation is going in. “What is it that you want?”

Ren shrugs, starting to stand. He sets the datapad down as he gets up, glancing at it rather than looking directly at Hux.

“I can sense what you’re feeling.”

“You have no right to p—”

“And I know what it’s like.”

The way Ren looks at him stops Hux’s rapidly expanding anger in its tracks.

“How could you possibly…?”

There’s a sad, somewhat annoying little smile that tells Hux that Ren isn’t going to explain himself.

“And, believe it or not, I’m not the kind of alpha who can treat an omega like a possession.”

It’s the first time Hux’s designation has been spoken about, and it’s jarring.

“So hate me if you want,” Ren continues. “If you need to do that, fine. I might find you to be an annoying shit of a man most of the time, but I’m willing to try and make this work.”

“How big of you,” Hux mutters, needled by being ranked as inferior simply because he’s an omega. “I suppose you’re not just making the effort out of the kindness of your heart.”

Ren scowls. “Not entirely, no. I don’t have to care about you. My part of the deal is that I fuck you and get you pregnant. We don’t have to like each other for that to happen.”

The inescapable truth is too much, and Hux grits his teeth, trying to block it out. He’s not ready to face what Snoke’s orders mean, or what he’ll have to do to fulfill them. He’s unfamiliar with everything to do with omegas – they’re not allowed within the ranks of the First Order, and are only of use when it comes to procreation. There’s no glory to be had as an omega.

“I want you to like me though,” Ren adds, sounding far too young and vulnerable. Hux knows what he is, and what he’s done, and the almost childish longing is so unexpected it’s disarming. Maybe when everything has settled down he’ll have decided if he wants to like Ren or not, but at least it’s an option.

He’s tempted to ask why Ren wants that, but he’s exhausted already and wants to go over the last few reports available to him before his rank is stripped away. Part of him argues that there’s no point, but it’s a matter of pride that he leaves everything in order for the next officer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Ren says, drifting towards the door. 

“Unfortunately, yes, you will,” Hux replies dryly. “Goodnight.”

Something almost like a chuckle drifts from Ren’s direction, but he’s already halfway out the door and Hux dismisses the odd sound. There are far more pressing matters with which to concern himself.

\- – — – -

Hux doesn’t see Ren until the ceremony. Given his familiarity with public address, Hux is annoyed to find himself ill at ease: it’s the humiliation and the embarrassment he can’t handle. This is the moment in which is becomes inescapably official, and he’s stripped of his rank and status before being handed to Kylo Ren to be bred.

In truth, Hux finds himself looking for Ren, wondering how the alpha will react to him. In the few short snatches of sleep he’d managed to catch that night, the oppressive panic that chased him into unconsciousness had been held at bay by a soothing voice and presence that had, for some reason, reminded him of Ren. It’s nothing, he knows, but the nearer the ceremony draws, the more he can’t help drawing strength from the idea that, somehow, through all of this, Ren might offer some sort of comfort. Neither of them want this.

Dressed all in traditional white, his long tunic resting over the pressed trousers he wears, Hux finally steps out onto the stage. The audience chamber is the largest space available, and it has been repurposed for the event. Chairs have been crammed in, holorecorders trained on the raised stage, and the First Order’s insignia draped against the walls. The pyrotechnics Ren mentioned a fondness for are carefully set, and designed to give a vibrant, brilliant end to the ceremony. They have been picked mostly to embellish the broadcasts.

When Hux sees Ren himself, he stills for a moment. He wants to snort at the ridiculousness of his outfit, but honestly it looks good on him. All black with fine red trim, Ren looks every bit as deadly and ferocious as he is, and he’s even found a mask to conceal his face. As they draw nearer to each other, Hux sees it’s made of a fine, close mesh, and it looks lighter and far more comfortable than the heavy thing Ren used to wear. It’s actually not bad at all, and Hux is momentarily grateful that at least the person he’s being forced to bond with is someone so powerful and renowned.

And then the ceremony begins. Hux doesn’t think much of the dry old creature Snoke has sent to officiate, but at least the words are perfect. For his last show, Hux is pretty sure it could only be improved by him being the one in power and overseeing, rather than being overseen, and he feels a kick of delight, safe in the knowledge that his successor won’t excel at oration the way he does. It’s petty, but it’s his last jab at Snoke, and Hux has made sure it’s so perfectly constructed his loss will be felt keenly afterwards.

When it comes to the part where they’re joined, Hux stops mentally reciting the service exactly as it should be done, and instead obeys the instruction to kneel.

The gold chain, when it’s placed around his neck in a show of ownership, is the heaviest thing Hux has ever had to bear. He suddenly finds it difficult to stand, and to join hands with Ren as expected. Of all the emotions vying for place within him, it’s indignation that’s the hardest to stamp out. The urge to fling the disgusting necklace off and storm away from the charade is almost overwhelming, and his muscle twitch, tensed in anticipation of flight.

It’s Ren’s hand gently squeezing his that brings Hux back to himself. He quickly regains control of his breathing, using the contact with Ren’s gloved hand as an anchor. He can feel the soft rub of leather on leather, and focuses on that.

As omega, he is expected to start the exchange, offering himself to an alpha who then accepts him, or doesn’t. Hux feels like he waits a beat too long before the words fall from his lips – Ren’s words, written not even a day ago.

“I offer myself to you, for the glory of your bloodline and the might of the First Order, for as long as you shall have me. All I ask in return is for the chance to honour and fulfill my purpose as your bonded partner, all other duties but those you give me forsaken in your name.”

The words are, honestly, nauseating. Ren had added the part about bloodlines and duties given by him, and had struck ‘or I am fit to serve that purpose’ from Hux’s original version, but even with the changes Hux was initiating a verbal contract in which his life was no longer his own.

“I accept your offer,” Ren says clearly, his voice more human in his new mask. “And in return for your loyalty and service I offer my care and protection, for as long as we both, together, can honour my bloodline and the might of the First Order.”

Hux tries to conceal his surprise. Ren’s words are almost identical to the ones he typed out, with one inescapable difference. Rather than stating ‘I will’, he had said ‘I offer’. Those who aren’t familiar with the ceremony might miss the huge slip, but there will be many who notice. Alphas don’t offer; they take.

Mercifully, the overseer doesn’t react in the slightest. They simply move on to the next part, and in a matter of minutes they announce that Armitage Hux is now bound to Kylo, Master of the Knights of Ren. At the end of the statement the pyrotechnics begin, and Hux struggles to turn and face the gathered crowds and the cameras. The walk from the stage to the door, his hand held in Ren’s, is the longest Hux has ever had to endure, and he’s exhausted by the end of it. The effort of standing upright and seeming dignified when he’s now nothing more than a mere possession, is possibly the hardest thing he’s had to do. All his subordinates – all the people he commanded, all the people he bested and surpassed to take control of the finest ship in the fleet and build the most magnificent weapon the galaxy had ever seen – are witnessing the fall of their once glorious General. They’re seeing the most humiliating demotion possible. No one even needs to say it: omegas simply don’t command. Hux’s position was invalidated the moment the purpose of the ceremony was announced, just over an hour ago.

Hux has almost nothing left. His grip on Ren’s hand tightens as he fights back emotions he can’t afford to feel. The only thing he still has is a fragment of respectability. He was a General; he will not falter.

And yet, when the long walk to Ren’s quarters is finally over and the doors shut behind them, that is taken from him too. The fragile tether holding in place the last of what Hux once was falls away, and he truly becomes nothing.

\- – — – -

Hux can’t think of anything to say. Ren’s quarters are too cluttered and chaotic for his liking, and everything is mirrored. It’s unsettling, to say the least. Wordlessly, Hux retires to the bedroom, and curls up on his side on the large bed, staring at the wall where a transparisteel window showing him the galaxy should be. He doesn’t even care that he’s messing up his neatly pressed clothes or carefully styled hair. The only thing he does is pull the necklace off, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor.

And then he lies there. There’s nothing to do: there are no reports to read, no training schedules to approve, no schematics to work on, no missions to organise, no plan to think on. Nothing. His whole life has imploded, shrinking down to this. Dully, Hux wonders if it will turn into a black hole if it collapses any more.

Ren, wisely, left him alone for a while, but the first thing Hux registers after languishing in isolation and misery for some time is the sound of someone moving through the room. He doesn’t turn, but it’s something new to focus on, and he picks up on the soft, sad sigh Ren gives before stooping to pick up the chain Hux discarded. A few seconds later, Ren sits on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to dip.

“Do you accept my offer?”

The words make Hux sit bolt upright, and he immediately regrets his reaction. His head hurts. He needs something to drink. It doesn’t hurt enough to distract him from Ren’s question though.

“You did that on purpose!”

Hux is suddenly angry. It was incredibly foolish thing for Ren to do, and if anyone knew it was intentional, Ren would be held in very poor regard.

Ren’s face is visible, as he’s removed the mask, and he suddenly looks far too young and vulnerable. Hux pitches back towards confusion, not knowing which emotion is currently uppermost as Ren confirms his suspicions.

“It was a mistake anyone could make,” he lies, and Hux sees right through it. Ren is looking at him pleadingly, seeming uncomfortable with having to ask again: “do you accept my offer?”

_ “I offer my care and protection, for as long as we both, together, can honour my bloodline and the might of the First Order.” _

“Why did you do it?”

Ren fidgets with the symbolic jewellery in his hand. For a moment Hux thinks he’s going to say that he wants Hux to like him again.

“You know, on Naboo it’s considered one of the greatest privileges to be bonded to an omega. It happens on other planets too – they’re revered, rather than treated as tools.”

Hux listens, wondering how it’s an answer to his question.

“I wasn’t raised in the Order. I don’t think like you. I think it’s a privilege too. The way I see it, everything else has been taken from you, so what harm can changing one word and giving you a choice – even if it’s only between us – do?”

_ A lot _ , Hux thinks, concerned. He frowns, wondering if Ren understands just how his slip could be interpreted. And then he thinks about that choice. It’s not much of one, and in the grand scheme of things it means nothing, but to him it’s  _ something _ .

“Okay,” he eventually decides. “As long as you don’t think that me disagreeing with you is dishonouring you in any way, I accept.”

Ren grins, looking up at Hux in a way that’s completely disarming. Hux is taken aback – he’s never seen Ren smile before, and the effect is rather pleasing. 

“I’d be disappointed if you changed,” Ren says.

Hux quickly looks away, down at his creased white tunic. He’s struggling to come to terms with how he feels, and which emotions are strongest within him, as they keep shifting and changing before he can process them, but he’s starting to realise it’s more than that. Something core and fundamental has altered. The counteractive drugs he’d been given seem to slowly be taking hold. Hux isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready for the thick veneer that’s built up over the years to be stripped away, revealing what he is beneath. He’s scared of what he’ll find.

Beside him, Ren gives a soft sigh, standing. He puts the chain down on his bedside unit, the metal clunking heavily as it slides from his grip.

“You don’t have to wear it when it’s just us,” he says. “And I’ll get you a better one. This one…”

Ren doesn’t need to finish what he’s saying. He clearly thinks almost as little of the jewellery as Hux does. Hux doesn’t even take it as an affront – it’s not as if he chose the thing. It had arrived with Snoke’s officiator, and of course it had to be the biggest, heaviest jewellery possible.

“You may have the bed,” Ren says as he leaves. “Goodnight, Hux.”

It has to be Hux’s imagination, but for a moment he thinks Ren seems sad. Hux stares after him, and then lies back down, realising no good will come of speculating or wondering about such things right now. He doesn’t even know which way is up. Instead, he thinks about the chain resting on the table next to his head, and what it signifies. He’s surprised Ren doesn’t expect him to wear it. All legally bonded omegas wear something signifying their status, and to be seen without it could be seen as an insult to his alpha, an act of mockery, or willful sedition. Then again, if Ren’s views on bonding were formed when he was younger, and exposed to a different doctrine, it might not mean the same thing to him. Maybe on Alderaan the alphas were the one who wore the jewellery.

It’s a ridiculous notion, and despite thinking for a moment about researching how omegas are treated on different planets, Hux decides against it. It might give him something to do, but it won’t change his own situation. Come to think of it, he probably doesn’t even have access to the holonet anymore.

It’s a lonely, isolating thought, and Hux curls up into a tight ball, trying not to think about it. His mind instinctively turns towards work, but there  _ is _ no work. Nothing he has learned throughout his whole life means anything now. He’ll never implement it again. He’s done; finished. Obsolete. His only duty now is to bear his alpha’s children.

The bed doesn’t smell like Ren, Hux thinks and he turns and buries his face in the pillow, fighting back tears. The fabric is soft and worn, but fresh from the sanitation unit. Hux can detect the cleaning detergent used, but nothing of the man whose quarters he’s now expected to reside in. The bed was prepared for this – for him. He wonders how soon Ren expects to be able to take him, and how soon Snoke expects results from their union.

This is all his existence amounts to now: producing heirs for a powerful alpha’s bloodline.

It’s crushing. For the first time in many, many years, Hux is too overwhelmed by emotion and too eroded by what’s happening to him to fight back tears. He smothers himself with Ren’s pillow, trying to isolate himself from the universe as he breaks down and cries.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things start to get a bit too real for Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @omega-hux for your encouragement. I really needed it D:

The first thing Hux registers upon waking is overwhelming discomfort. His mouth is dry, he has a pounding headache, and his arm is completely dead thanks to the awkward position he managed to sleep in. At least he slept, he thinks, but given how groggy and disorientated he feels it’s a small comfort. He’s still in his ceremonial dress, complete with the shoes he never bothered removing on entering Ren’s quarters, and he feels a complete mess. He can feel the dried tears on his skin and groans as he realises just how dishevelled his hair is. His functioning hand touches it, trying to restore order, as his other arm lies limply, waiting for painful sensation to return.

It’s a slow and unpleasant process, but it distracts Hux for a minute or two. He focuses on the needling sensation, the flush of warmth as his nerves reawaken, and the light tingling he’s left with afterwards. It feels better than the incessant ache in his head, which isn’t even localised: his head quite simply hurts.

It’s an effort to make himself get up. Hux isn’t used to lying around slovenly after he’s woken, but everything has been taken from him. If he weren’t in pain there’s be no reason to move at all. He doesn’t even know what time it is – probably early in the morning, the same time he wakes every day, but there’s no way to tell. He can’t see a chronometer in the room.

There’s nothing to be done about the clothes he’s wearing. As he walks across Ren’s bedroom, gingerly patting at his hair to try and neaten it and then turning his attention to his tunic, he thinks about his own clothes. They’re all gone now, returned to circulation. He’d been issued with an off-duty set of ‘casual’ clothes once, comprising of trousers, a plain navy shirt and a black pullover, but he’d handed them back without ever wearing them. He supposes that’s what will be sent to him now, along with a fresh, standard issue pyjama set and underthings. After dressing for the ceremony yesterday he’d left the removal of his clothing and First Order issued possessions to cleaning droids. Having to return his own uniform would have been too much. He’d been so proud of it.

The lighting in the main room of Ren’s quarters is low, and Hux peers cautiously around before entering. Over in the corner, on a huge, squashy looking sofa, Ren is still asleep, one leg over the top of the armrest and the other poking out from beneath the thin blanket that covers him. His breathing is soft and even, and Hux hopes he doesn’t wake easily.

The small kitchen area – comprising of a sink, heating plate, and series of temperature controlled cupboards – is located in the far corner, and Hux pads towards it as softly as he can, for as much his own sake as Ren’s. He has to open two ambient temperature cupboards before he finds the one containing a mismatched collection of mugs and glasses, and he pulls down the largest one he can find. The cold water tap splutters loudly in the stillness, and Hux tenses reflexively, his headache worsening as his blood races. He fills the mug and quickly shuts the tap off, holding his breath and turning to see if Ren has woken.

He hasn’t. The alpha sleeps on, completely at ease in the awkward position he’s managed to get himself into. He’s too large for the sofa, and Hux stands for a moment, taking in the other man’s size and limbs. They’re the same height, but there’s always been so much  _ more _ of Ren – a fraction more height, more layers, bulkier limbs, more mass. More hair too, Hux thinks. He sips his water slowly, his eyes drawn to where Ren’s long hair splays out over the cushion he’s using as a pillow. First Order regulations state that an individual’s hair must be cut in an approved manner and worn in an neat, regulation style. Hux’s own hair is longer than most other officers’, but is still far shorter than Ren’s unruly, unkempt mane. He wonders how Ren copes with the inevitable tangles that must arise from such poor management.

There’s a pair of stools at the small breakfast bar, and Hux sits on one as he finished his drink. The headache distracts him from most thoughts and feelings, but the pervasive confusion and embarrassment is still there, lurking beneath the surface. As agreeable as simply regarding Ren might be, it’s hard to continue doing so when Hux remembers what they are now – what Ren is to him. As a legally bonded couple, there’s a lot that’s now expected of him which Hux never thought he’d have to give to anyone, least of all the man he’d been sharing a strained command relationship with for the last few years. He knows he will never be able to love Ren, even if he somehow gets used to his new life and what he is.

Finishing his water, Hux pads as softly as possible to the refresher. The automatic light level when he turn it on is too much. He winces, feeling jarred by the excessive luminescence, and hastily reduces the level to a more manageable fifty per cent. His movements as he washes are slow: lethargic, not leisurely. There’s nothing to look forwards to, except perhaps sorting through his personal belongings. The single storage crate containing them was probably delivered to Ren’s quarters during the ceremony, as he’d ordered, but Hux hasn’t seen it. There’s not much he wishes to retrieve – his hair products, perhaps, and the copy of  _ Gloriae Imperium _ his father gave him, although the thought of that book and his father leaves a bitter taste in Hux’s mouth. His whole life up until this point was irrevocably tied to the First Order. He was taken in by his father and resculpted: repurposed for the cause. No part of him has been left untouched by that goal, and now he’s completely worthless. He idly wonders what his father’s reaction to this whole thing has been. Bitter rage and disappointment, he guesses.

As for his mother… Hux allows his thoughts to turn to her for the first time in years. He doubts that she is still living. Given that his first few years had been with her, and her alone, Hux is inclined to believe his father either didn’t want his bastard son until claiming him became necessary, or his mother wanted to keep him away from his father and the life she knew he’d be consumed by. He wonders what would have become of him if his father had known then, when the Empire fell and the frantic scramble to recover as much of value as possible before retreating to the Outer Rim, that his son was an omega. He’d probably have been left behind with his mother.

Back out in the main room, Ren is still asleep. Hux carefully drinks another mug of water, knowing he should retreat to the bedroom but finding himself somehow unable to do so. His head still hurts too much to think straight, and there’s an uneasiness growing in his stomach that spiders out along his limbs. He’s starting to feel restless in a claustrophobic, smothered way, and doesn’t want to be alone with what he’s feeling. Normally the cure would be to throw himself wholeheartedly into his work but that’s no longer an option. Staring at Ren and trying to understand the man Hux barely even knows is the best he can distract himself with.

Halfway through his third mug, Ren stirs. He turns over with a low murmur, and a few seconds later is blinking, looking across the room at Hux. Hux hasn’t stopped staring: his headache is slowly easing now he’s better hydrated, but his mind still needs the distraction of trying to work out which parent Ren inherited his peculiar looks from.

“Hey,” Ren says. His voice is rough and low, still half asleep within his throat. “Did you sleep well?”

“I believe so,” Hux manages. He watches as Ren sits up, long limbs extending as he stretches. It makes him look almost feline, although with the way he responds to Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders and begs for praise Hux had always considered him more an insipid, faithful little pet.

_ Snoke _ , Hux thinks bitterly, blaming the creature fully in that moment for everything happening to him. The deception set in place by Brendol Hux had been so good and, really, there had been no reason to expose it. Despite his failure with Starkiller Base – which would have been humiliation enough for him to endure – Hux still held promise within the ranks of the First Order. He had given so much, and still had so much to give.

Ren, oblivious to Hux’s inner turmoil, comes into the kitchen area and opens a cupboard.

“Are you hungry?”

Reflexively, Hux shakes his head. He doesn’t miss the way Ren raises an eyebrow to say he doesn’t believe him, but the alpha turns away again, pulling down a bland meal bar without saying anything. He makes quick work of it, and Hux is mildly impressed. He always needs to wash each bite down with a drink.

“Your stuff’s over there,” Ren says, gesturing towards the door. Sure enough, a standard black storage crate sits nestled in the shadows cast by the low light. “You were asleep.”

It’s not much of an explanation, but Hux doesn’t think anything of it. He’s already moving towards the crate. He kneels beside it, opening the panel, and stares down at his possessions. A lump forms in his throat the moment he sees what’s uppermost: his uniform, the command cap nestled atop neatly folded garments.

“I thought you might want to keep it,” Ren says from somewhere just behind Hux, sounding almost kind.

Hux both does and doesn’t want to keep it, and he hesitates a moment before reaching out and touching the familiar, comforting material. It’s both wonderful and terrible, and he doesn’t know how to react. The uniform was his armour – his skin – and it’s been peeled away from him and carefully stowed away like a pelt from a hunting trip. He doesn’t know if its presence is comforting or devastating 

“We’ll need to get you some new clothes,” Ren continues, sounding unsure of himself. “Do you have any preference for what’s sent?”

Hux shakes his head, fingers now playing with the smooth, sleek collar of his folded uniform. It had fit so well. It had been part of him. He has no idea what he’s supposed to cloak himself with now.

When he finally moves his uniform he can’t help giving a choked sob. The humiliating reaction is impossible to bite back in time, and he trembles, fingers tightening on the clothing he holds. His belongings have been rearranged so that his greatcoat can nestle in the centre of the crate, carefully folded and rolled to take up as little space as possible. Of all the things Hux misses already, he hadn’t realised this was one of them.

“Are you happy now?” he finds himself asking, his voice bitter and broken. He hates the way he’s falling apart, and the painful, unbearable ache in his chest that blossoms as he looks at what his now former life is reduced to.

The very last thing he expects is to hear Ren give a soft sigh and then kneel carefully beside him. For someone with so much mass, the alpha can be incredibly graceful, and he settles almost silently beside Hux, his bare hand reaching out to touch Hux’s greatcoat. His hands are broad, Hux notices, and bear scars and recent grazes over his knuckles, no doubt from training. They’re a warrior’s hands.

“The first time I saw you, you were wearing this,” Ren says. “You looked so puffed up and self-important. All I wanted to do was deflate you, bring you brought down to size.”

“Well congratulations,” Hux bites back, “you’ve succeeded.”

Ren huffs, continuing to rub the greatcoat with his thumb. “We all have our armour – our way of hiding what we don’t want anyone else to see. You made yours so much a part of you, though.”

Hux isn’t sure where this is going, and he feels unsteady. Emotions he can’t identify are being drawn from him, and he dislikes it. Ren isn’t trying to be argumentative. If anything, the man seems to be reminiscing.

“I never wanted that to be taken from you – not really. As irritating as you can be, you’re a proud man. Even if I could never agree with your methods, I could respect your dedication.”

That seems to be it, and Ren falls silent. His attention is still fixed on the greatcoat, and Hux doesn’t know what to say in response. He opens and closes his mouth, his throat oddly tight and lips failing to form words. He knows something is expected of him, but for once in his life he can’t figure out what it is. Reciprocation, perhaps? Is he supposed to thank Ren for his little speech? Hux can recognise that it’s possibly some attempt at making amends, but he’s on the cusp of the unknown. He’s not quite sure how to let go of the instinctive animosity and hostility he harbours towards Ren.

Instead of answering, he stands.

“Hux?”

He tries to ignore the way everything goes dark for a moment as the blood fails to reach his brain. He wavers, finally evening out.

“I should put my things away,” he announces, looking around the busy room. It occurs to him that he has no idea how he’s supposed to insert himself into Ren’s life. There’s no space for him.

Ren is standing by his side, a hand hovering over Hux’s shoulder for a moment before he finally makes contact. The warm, heavy touch makes Hux look round a little too fast, and his fading headache pulses in protest.

“Eat first.”

Hux’s attention is fixated on the point where Ren touches him, and he stares at the calloused hand, wondering how he’s supposed to react.

“Come,” Ren urges.

“I’m not a kriffing child,” Hux snaps as he’s moved towards the kitchenette.

“No,” Ren actually agrees, rummaging in the cupboard again. “But you’ve not eaten in the last eighteen hours at least. I don’t want you passing out on my floor, or being any crankier than usual. Here.”

He tosses over a sealed packet of  _ something _ , and Hux’s eyes widen in horror when he sees what it is.

“You stole this!”

Ren raises an eyebrow at Hux’s protest. “Really?”

Hux fumes for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of admonishing Ren for helping himself to luxury ingredients from the stores, until mental exhaustion wins through. He doesn’t know what he’d say. What does it matter to him anyway? It’s not as if he’s in command anymore.

He takes the packet of dried jaeberries and opens it, resigned. The sweetness is a little too much, and at the first taste his jaw seizes up. It’s food, though, and Ren is right – he hasn’t eaten in almost a day. He chews slowly and carefully, enjoying the treat that is usually reserved for decorating the cakes prepared for formal occasions. 

Ren is watching him, and Hux finds himself frowning. The attention is disconcerting. 

“What?”

Ren says nothing though, and looks away.

“Ren,” Hux tries to warn, annoyed by the silence. He has zero authority now, though. He’s beneath anyone’s notice. Stripped of rank, exposed as an omega, bonded to his adversary and now standing in said alpha’s quarters wearing the rumpled clothes he’d slept in and eating sweet berries like a pathetic child, he really is nothing.

“You like them.”

Hux isn’t sure why the statement leaves him speechless. He hesitates, processing the words and finding them to be true.

“I can get you more. Is there anything else you like?”

Hux looks down at the packet of fruit, suddenly embarrassed.

“I… I don’t know.”

It pains him to admit it, but other than a preference for sweetener in his caf and cinnamon on his oats, Hux doesn’t know what he likes. There’s so little variety in the food available and he treats meals as if they’re a chore. They get in the way of his work, and Hux often skips them, sometimes intentionally.

Ren looks, for once, completely out of his depth, and he’s avoiding looking at Hux so much so that he might as well be staring. His embarrassment makes Hux feel worse, and crushes the packet in his hand, longing to be elsewhere.

“I’ll see what I can find,” Ren manages. “I need to go. I have duties to…”

He trails off, clearly at a loss.

“Put your things wherever, just not in the study.”

Ren starts moving away, brushing past Hux as he heads towards the refresher.

“And help yourself to food.”

Hux stares at the floor, feeling smaller than ever. It wasn’t quite understanding he’d felt growing between them – more the first tentatives steps of a relationship where they didn’t need to constantly needle each other – but that atmosphere dissipates in an instant. Ren’s awkwardness shows that his poorly chosen words are simply a mistake, but Hux feels them keenly all the same. Ren has places to be and things to do, while Hux no longer has anything. He is a kept pet at best – at Ren’s mercy and having to rely on his charity – and he isn’t even a valued one at that.

Setting the barely touched packet of jaeberries down on the counter, Hux turns and walks back into Ren’s bedroom.

\- – — – -

Ren comes into the bedroom to fetch some clothes shortly after Hux has settled down on the bed again, his back to the door, but Ren’s stay is mercifully brief. He says, in a more familiar, purposeful tone, that he’ll be back within a few hours, and then he leaves.

Hux is, for the most part, relieved to be alone. The headache hasn’t quite gone, but the lingering ache that remains feels different, and when coupled with the way his body is starting to feel, he’s beginning to suspect it has nothing to do with dehydration. The uneasiness isn’t just due to the overwhelming humiliation and distress: something within him is changing. It feels, frighteningly, like he’s peeling apart, layers being scrubbed away by the drug that courses through his veins, growing stronger each passing day.

_ So this is what being an omega means _ , Hux thinks miserably. He hates the way he feels more of himself slipping away, washing down into the tumultuous storm of emotions growing within him. His calm, collected self is becoming harder and harder to reach, and it’s jarring to realise that he can’t support himself through this. Still, he doesn’t want anyone to see it happening. He doesn’t want anyone to witness the way he’s falling apart.

This time bitter rage that tears through him, rising up and consuming him until his eyes are stinging with acrid tears. He’s furious at his father for the deception that has cost him everything, and rationality is falling away. He lies there, humiliated and seething, and flings dagger after dagger at the image of Brendol Hux he holds in his mind, tearing the twisted old man down further and further until the thought of him is shredded and ruined beyond recognition. Hux doesn’t understand how his father could have done this. He must have thought his own son too weak to be trusted with the truth, as if Hux somehow knowing what he was would cause him to… to what? Embrace his designation? Hux would have torn every part of omega out of himself if he’d known what he was and could have done anything about it.

He’s helpless now, though, and at the mercy of his own traitorous body. The urge to lash out rises within him, until he yanks the pillow towards him and screams into it, frustration and anger tearing his throat raw as he tries to voice it. He doesn’t recognise himself. He doesn’t know who he is.

The headache is back. He’s thirsty. His body itches with a nameless, needling discomfort. There’s no way Hux can trust himself to go through to the kitchenette for a drink though, no matter how much he needs one. He needs to tear the world apart, and knows he’ll only end up smashing something in his anger and frustration.

He recklessly chooses to remain where he is, fists curled into tight, painful balls, condemning himself to suffer whatever it is that’s happening to him.

\- – — – -

When Ren returns, Hux is drifting between unconsciousness and wakefulness. His insides feel like they’re being churned in a blender, and he’s too exhausted from all the emotions coursing through him to try to direct any of them. He leaves them be, his mind detached from what is going on with his body out of necessity: he can’t think he way out of this one.

The mattress dips as Ren takes a seat, and Hux feels himself relax, despite the vast presence of the other man.

“You should drink something.”

Ren’s voice is warm and strong, and Hux immediately fixates on it. It’s like dry land after years adrift, and he obeys without thinking. A cool mug is pressed into his hands when he sits up, and he raises it to parched lips, remembering through reflex what it is he needs to do to fulfill the command.

“How are you feeling?”

Hux scowls. Even if he were willing to tell anyone, he doesn’t have the words. He glares at Ren over the top of the mug, resenting the stupid question.

“Terrible,” he eventually bites out – he sounds it too. His voice is thin and raw, and it hurts to speak.

“I can’t imagine,” Ren says gently. “My parents betrayed me too, but not like this.”

There’s a pause as Hux takes another drink of water, feeling ashamed of the broken, almost worthless thing he has become.

“This is your first heat, isn’t it?”

Hux freezes at Ren’s words, his blood running cold. He’s beyond horrified as he realises that’s what’s happening to him. How had he missed it? Why had no one told him it would happen so soon?

“If you need it, I’ll help, in any way I can,” Ren continues.

Hux barely hears Ren’s words. Everything shudders and twists, and the horrifying truth crashes in, searing through him. Now everything burns. He can barely breathe through the fire consuming him.

“Hey! Hux!”

He realises that his hands are trembling when Ren takes the mug from his fierce grip. His whole body is spinning out of control, kicked into overdrive by a biological imperative he cannot understand and does not want. Ren is hastily lowering the mug to the ground, and then he takes Hux’s hands, his touch cool and grounding.

“Hux, you’re okay. Just listen to me.”

Hux hears himself give a strained, panicked whimper of laughter, still struggling to draw breath. A detached, distant part of his mind watches, mortified, as panic threatens to consume him.

“Just listen,” Ren repeats. His voice is calm and steady, and wraps around Hux, binding him to the command. Hux dimly wonders if this is the Force, or if he’s so desperate for sanctuary he’s ready to obey anything Ren says. He doesn’t care which is the truth.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I offered you my care and protection, didn’t I?”

Hux isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer or not, but nods. The hands holding his move carefully over his still trembling digits in a clear effort to help soothe him. Hux can feel something almost like a void within Ren – deep, calm nothingness – and he longs to disappear into it.

“Slow your breathing. Try to match mine.”

It’s hard to hear over his own frantic heartbeat. Hux has to watch for the cues more than listen, and finds that Ren’s rate of respiration is impossibly slow. It’s steady and even, and he’s sure he’ll never match it, but as the minutes slip by he manages; little by little he regains control. With the calm, deep breaths he feels his mind clearing, and although his thoughts and emotions are still a chaotic mess they’re no longer threatening to suffocate him.

“That’s it,” Ren says, sounding satisfied with Hux’s effort. He doesn’t pull his hands away, and for that Hux is grateful. He’s not ready for that small gesture of support to be withdrawn. “Did you manage to eat or drink anything while I was out?”

Hux bites his lip before answering. “No.”

“That’s okay,” Ren nods, as if he’d expected the answer. “We can have something together. Want to get changed first? I had some clothes brought for you.”

The loss Hux feels when Ren moves away, letting go of his hands, if far more profound than he would have thought possible. He can’t help leaning after Ren, hating his own weakness and desperation. Ren glances back at him, his gaze apologetic, before disappearing into the main room and leaving Hux confused and adrift. How he managed to go from respectable general – calm, collected and independent – to insignificant breeding fodder, desperate for Kylo Ren’s touch, of all people, he doesn’t know. He would never have dreamed of acting like this just a few days ago, and yet now he can’t stop himself rising on unsteady legs, gravitating towards the one person who seems to make sense in all of this.

Ren is clearly surprised to see him standing. He enters the room carrying so much clothing he can barely see over it, and has to stop short so he doesn’t collide with Hux.

“I hope there’s something in here you like.”

Hux is bemused by the variety being tipped onto the bed before him. Most of it is certainly not standard issue: there are several tops made of thick, non-approved materials; both long and short sleeve shirts in a variety of colours; trousers made of luxurious cotton as well as a pair made of a strange dark blue fabric; and different coloured underwear. Ludicrously, some of the socks even have patterns on them.

“I wasn’t aware that the civilian wardrobe for undercover operatives was so… extensive,” he murmurs, sifting through the pile and pulling out some of the simpler garments he feels comfortable selecting. If Ren notices that he’s deliberately going for the plain clothes, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’d be surprised how much stuff is sitting in storage,” Ren says, “and also what you can bring back from away missions. Here, you’ll like these.”

He confidently picks out three almost identical pairs of socks, the only difference between them being the coloured spots, and hands them over. The moment Hux touches them his eyes widen in amazement: he’s never felt anything so soft.

“Where did you get them?”

Ren shrugs dismissively and doesn’t answer. Hux is too taken by the incredible feeling of the fabric against his skin to really notice though.

“There’s time to shower before we eat, if you like.”

“Oh, um, yes. Of course,” Hux stutters. He’s already feeling a little better for the distraction of picking out an outfit, but the promise of a shower helps him draw himself together. It gives him a sense of purpose, however insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and he likes to hope that he’ll feel better after it. At the very least there will be a line drawn between himself and the ceremony.

“I’ll take care of this,” Ren says firmly, nodding to the discarded clothes. “I’ve already set fresh towels out for you.”

Something other than his body’s rapidly changing chemistry causes Hux to flush, and he gathers his chosen outfit to him and looks down, mumbling his thanks as he leaves. He despises the idea of living at someone else’s charity, but Ren seems so genuinely kind and thoughtful it doesn’t feel like he’s being given handouts or tolerated with thinly veiled irritation. Given their history, Hux wouldn’t be surprised if Ren took full advantage of the situation and used it to further humiliate him – which is something Hux is sure he would do if their positions were reversed – but so far Ren has been nothing but kind and civil towards him; compassionate, even.

Hux thumbs the soft fabric of the socks, trying to muster anger and frustration towards Ren. He can’t do it. The refresher is laid out for him, with the promised fresh towels warming on the towel rail and toiletries set out for his use. As he sets his clothes down on the counter and then strips, doing his utmost to avoid catching his own reflection, Hux wonders how he could have been so wrong about Ren. Perhaps he hadn’t been wrong at all, but this side – the softness, consideration and kindness – was reserved for omegas, so of course he’d never seen it before. He could hate and resent Ren for being so fickle and treating people purely based on their designation, but as he slips beneath the cool water of the fully functioning shower, he decides he’d rather be grateful that he’s not being treated the way he knows alphas treat omegas – their own or otherwise.

It’s as he’s rinsing the soap from his still-too-hot skin that Hux’s stomach sinks right down through his feet and washes into the drain. Omegas exist to be bred, and if this is his first heat it means that he’s now fit for that purpose. The thought of being fucked soon – later in the day, or perhaps that night – and falling pregnant so quickly terrifies him, and the calmness he’d managed to find in his cleansing routine is shattered. The thought of it is horrifying. He’s not ready for that, and all that it entails. He’s not even started to come to terms with being an omega. To carry a child is… unthinkable.

He doesn’t want to leave the refresher. He doesn’t even want to leave the shower. It’s more than just the cool temperature of the recycled water making him shiver. It’s all too sudden. He’s not ready. He doesn’t think he will ever be ready.

But Ren will. As an alpha, he’ll expect to breed; he’ll expect to have an omega handed to him, and will think nothing of utilising the tool he’s given. It won’t matter to him that most omegas have had their whole adult lives to prepare for the ordeal, whereas Hux has had… what? Three days?

Nothing in the galaxy can make him budge from where he stands, frozen, as the full, horrific reality of his situation closes in around him. Hands resting over his stomach tense, blunt nails biting at his skin. The thought of his stomach distending grotesquely with Ren’s – anyone’s – child makes him feel sick, and determined to tear out every part of his sex that makes him a weak, disposable tool.

He’s startled from his thoughts by a knocking at the door, and inhales sharply, almost falling backwards.

“Hux?”

He scrambles with the controls, shutting off the water.

“I’m fine!” he shouts in an attempt to feign normalcy. It’s only after he’s done so that he can’t work out why he’s done it. He stands, still shivering, in the shower cubicle, unsure of what to do next.

“Hux, will you let me in?”

“No!” he cries out, panicking. He fumbles for the towels, managing to smack his elbow painfully in the process. “I’m fine!” he repeats, desperately hoping Ren will go away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

He can tell from Ren’s voice that the alpha isn’t going to relent, and he wraps himself as securely as he can in the warm towel. It doesn’t matter what Ren promises: he’s going to hurt him anyway.

When the door opens, Hux is all but cowering in the corner of the shower, and Ren takes one look at him before visibly deflating, concern clear in the way he regards Hux. Still, Hux doesn’t trust the act, and keeps his guard up.

“Hux, what is it?”

Hux’s only response is to shake his head in refusal, curling in on himself when Kylo takes a tentative step forward.

“I won’t hurt you. Please, trust me.”

Ren sounds desperate, and Hux watches him warily, trying to work out how to reconcile the apparent concern with the selfishness he knows is inherent in alphas and will soon make an appearance. He wants to believe that he can trust Ren, but how can he trust someone who has every intention of defiling his body and forcing him to carry their child?

“Hux, please,” Ren tries again, his voice soft and pleading. “Whatever is scaring you, we can talk about it.”

“How did you know!? Were you spying on me!?”

“What? No! Nothing like that!” Ren hastily reassures him. He falters, looking hesitant for a moment. “It’s just that I can sense, you know, emotions. You seemed distressed. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Hux has never been further from okay in his life, and he stands there, staring incredulously at Ren, still shivering and clutching the towel tightly around him.

“Everything’s perfect,” he says a little shrilly, aiming for sarcastic but missing it completely.

“Come,” Ren says gently, holding out his hand. Hux stares at it, realising he’s expected to take it. A traitorous part of him desperately wants to. “We can talk about it.”

Hux shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do this.”

Ren stills, cocking his head as if processing Hux’s words. His hand slowly lowers, and Hux feels as if he’s lost something.

“I don’t want you to breed me.”

His words are garbled, pushed out in a rush. He’s still staring at Ren’s hand, both wanting and despising it. He can’t look anywhere else, too afraid of Ren’s reaction and the repercussions to do so.

“I know,” Ren whispers. His voice is fragile, and all too vulnerable. It’s terrible. When Hux manages to look up, Ren’s gaze is fixed on the floor, his hair falling fowards and hiding most of his face. He seems… hurt?

“Obviously that’s what Snoke wants and expects of us,” he continues. “I know that. But until you are okay with that, and want it…” Ren looks up, his gaze sad and his expression solemn. “I meant what I said. I’ll protect you, for as long as I can. I can’t – I won’t – force myself on you, no matter who demands it of me.”

Hux is left breathless, and stares at Ren in astonishment. “You’d defy his orders?”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

He’s said the same thing two days ago, and the answer is so sincere and disarming that Hux has nothing to say in response. He believes it: he believes that Ren actually cares what he thinks about him.

Still holding the towel tightly so it won’t slip, Hux carefully offers his hand. Like everything else about him it’s tentative and shaky, and for a moment he’s afraid that Ren won’t react. He can’t help giving a weak huff of relief when Ren takes his hand, his large, strong hand supporting Hux’s with ease as he steps out of the shower. Hux sees the same relief echoed in Ren’s expression, and waits patiently as his hand is raised to a plush mouth, and soft, supple lips kiss the back of his fingers. The gesture warms him. It makes him feel cherished.

“I’ll give you anything you want.” Ren promises. “Just ask it of me.”

Hux nods in acknowledgement, feeling at a loss. He’s not sure he should trust Ren entirely, yet everything about the alpha encourages him to: his words, his actions, the way he gazes at Hux as if he’s the most important thing to him in the galaxy.

“Give me a minute and I’ll be out,” he says.

Ren gives a small smile, his calloused thumb running over the back of Hux’s fingers gently before he lets go. The gesture makes Hux feel as if he’s done something right, and he wonders when and how such a simple response from Ren became so rewarding.

“I’ll be waiting,” the alpha promises.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suffering the effects of his very first heat, Hux can barely recognise himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to the people who offered to read over this and gave me support and encouragement, and especially to Kali and Omega-Hux who have helped more than they can know.
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who has been waiting for an update. I really hope it's worth the wait.

When he emerges from the bathroom, leaving the ceremonial clothes crumpled in a corner for a droid to deal with later, Hux finds Ren waiting for him as promised, two thermasealed food containers sitting in front of him at the breakfast bar. Hux tugs nervously at his unfamiliar clothes as he moves closer, trying to guess what Ren ordered. There’s an air of normalcy to the whole affair, as if this is just another day between two companions who regularly sit down to a meal together, and Hux is grateful for the illusion. It’s certainly a relief after the all-consuming panic that gripped him just a few minutes ago.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just went with the first option on the menu,” Ren admits, sounding apologetic as he starts to break the seal on one of the meals. He flinches, clearly burnt by the steam, and shakes his hand to dispel the pain. “Are you comfortable eating here? I can clear the dining table if you like.”

Hux glances over to the table in question. It’s buried beneath odds and ends, mostly weapons care items and what looks like a dissected old mouse droid. He shakes his head. “Here’s fine,” he decides, slipping onto the tall stool opposite Ren, who is attempting to open the container again. Hux’s stomach does something peculiar when he smells the familiar meal of meat and root vegetables, both clenching in hunger and sinking in disinterest. Not having registered any feelings of hunger, Hux treats the plate being pushed towards him with caution. “What did you get?”

“Rice and white meat,” Ren says, opening his far more appetising meal. Hux realises he must be staring, because Ren nudges the plate towards him. “Here, have mine if you prefer.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hux, it’s okay,” Ren says firmly, switching their plates. “Don’t worry about it. Just eat what you can.”

Resigned, Hux does as he’s told, poking at the pilfered meal for almost a minute before deciding that he really does want to eat something. When he tries a mouthful he finds that the rice is soft and lightly seasoned, and tastes good even to his uncooperative senses. His lack of appetite has never bothered him before, but there’s a clear reason for it now: his traitorous body cares more about realigning his biology than it does about sustenance. It’s that alone which gives Hux the strength and determination to eat at least half the meal, his body be damned.

What doesn’t help is the way his hand trembles when he raises the fork to his mouth. Uneasy after the earlier chaotic rush of emotions, and feeling more and more flushed and borderline feverish as the cooling effect of the tepid shower wears off, Hux is distracted by the unfamiliar, unsettling feedback. He doesn’t feel at all himself, and he’s not used to his nerves disobeying him like this, nor his lungs drawing so desperately at the air or his heart skittering within his breast as if he’s a nervous cadet all over again. It only gets worse as the minutes tick by. He feels embarrassed, and all too aware of Ren’s presence. The other man isn’t looking directly at him, and yet Hux can tell he’s being actively watched; he can sense Ren with startling clarity, as if the other man is pressed up against an invisible bubble surrounding him. It only adds to his discomfort. This isn’t the Ren he knows. This Ren appears kind and considerate, and so far removed from the tempestuous disaster the Knight has always been that Hux feels even more disorientated. His hand tingles where Ren kissed it, and he tries to tear his thoughts away from the confusing gesture. He struggles to focus on something more important, and realises with a start that his hand is failing. Hastening to adjust the grip on his fork he manages to overcorrect, and rice spills over the countertop.

Hux doesn’t understand what he feels, but the horror and confusion over his blunder makes him drop the fork altogether, and it clatters loudly as it comes to rest amongst the spilled grains. He tries to push away from the table, and realises his heart is pounding far too quickly. Something binds his chest so tightly he can’t breathe and the quick, panicked gasps he takes do nothing but add to the dizziness claiming him.

“Hux.”

Ren’s voice is distant, and Hux’s mind is too tumultuous to register it properly. He tries to reach for it though, and his trembling hand crashes against cool, soothing skin. He snatches at the small comfort, trying to anchor himself to it. It doesn’t feel like it’s working. Ren is still too far away, on the other side of that bubble. Tears sting Hux’s eyes, and his chest heaves with the shock of the emotions he’s feeling. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, and that’s the most frightening thing of all. He doesn’t know how to make any of it it stop.

Ren calls out to him again, something in his steady voice betraying concern. At the sound of his own name Hux grips Ren’s hand even tighter, as if that will save him from drowning.

“It’s okay,” Ren promises, closer this time. “Just focus on me. Here. That’s it.”

Hux doesn’t hesitate to grasp Ren’s other hand the moment it’s within reach. He clings on as if his existence depends on it, and in that moment he’s quite sure it does. If Ren were to let go, Hux is convinced it would be the end of him.

“Breathe evenly. Just a little bit slower. You can do it.”

He’s being coaxed like a child, and a small, still-functioning part of his mind registers Ren’s words. They have the opposite effect, though, and Hux’s panic kicks into overdrive. He can’t do it. He doesn’t know how to. He can’t function. He can’t work out how to make himself stop. He’s alone, and if Ren weren’t holding onto him he’d disappear completely.

The loss of Ren’s touch is devastating, and Hux cries out in fear and alarm before realising that Ren is moving to his side. He gives a sob of relief and flings himself at the other man, locking his arms around a broad chest and burying his face against Ren’s neck as all the distance between them vanishes. Ren’s skin is cool to the touch, his petrichor scent fresh and soothing, and the hand that rests lightly on Hux’s hair, stroking it gently, eases some of the terror constricting Hux’s heaving breast. The strong arm encircling his back makes him feel safe. When Ren speaks, Hux can feel the words: sense them. They surround and seep into him, making him feel far less alone; far less afraid.

“Focus on my breathing,” Ren encourages, and the command is easy to follow. Hux can feel the steady rise and fall of the strong chest against his own, and knows he wants to match it. His own breathing comes in quick, fearful gasps, heating Ren’s skin, but as his attention shifts from his own chaotic body to that of Ren’s calm, composed one, Hux starts trying to regain control of himself. He gives a strangled, abortive attempt at a laugh as his old self recognises the complete reversal in their positions, before the need within him causes him tighten his arms around Ren, reassuring himself that he truly has a hold of the alpha.

The alpha. The understanding that falls into place in that moment is too profound for Hux to process. His mind hastily stores it away for later; for a time when knowing just how naturally an alpha can comfort an omega won’t pitch him even further into panic. What counts now is the fact that Ren offers sorely needed stability, so Hux clings to him, focusing on Ren’s breathing and trying to match it.

Hux isn’t sure how long it takes to calm down. Only the very basic facts register, such as the dizziness he’s suffering, the calming way Ren smells, and the coolness of the alpha’s body, but other than that his mind is oddly quiet, as if he doesn’t have the energy for coherent thought. Ren still holds him, gently stroking his hair even though his comforting words have ceased, and Hux is more than content to remain where he is. He can feel the steady rhythm of their synchronous breathing and hear the rapid beating of his own heart – or perhaps it’s Ren’s?

What brings back the sharp edge of distress is the realisation that he doesn’t want to pull away. Hux knows he has to let go soon as he’s calmer and there’s no excuse to cling to Ren anymore, but he truly doesn’t want to. The uncomfortable truth makes him tense, but despite that he can’t muster the energy to withdraw. His arms have locked into place, the joints seeming to have seized up. He can’t imagine letting go. He doesn’t want to. He simply cannot…

The shame of his position causes Hux to wither, even in Ren’s arms. Embarrassment and disgrace scorch his blood, and he’s suddenly desperate to disappear.

“I don’t want to be like this,” he pleads.

Ren’s response is to give a soothing noise that should be patronising but, alarmingly, isn’t. “I went to see the medical officer earlier,” he says. There is perhaps a point to what Ren is saying, but Hux ignores it for a moment, warring with himself to try and force some sort of action that will separate them. He can’t make himself do it.

“There’s nothing about what you’re going through that’s easy, Hux,” Ren continues, “but it will pass, I promise you. And I’ll do anything I can to help you. Anything…”

Hux can’t help falling still at Ren’s words, wondering what he’s hearing. He’s desperate to believe that Ren is telling the truth, and yet he can’t help feeling like it’s all a lie. He doesn’t understand how his situation can do anything other than deteriorate, or understand why Ren would help him.

Fingers still playing with Hux’s damp hair, Ren continues, his voice barely more than a low murmur. “It’s just us here. Be however you need to be.”

His words are strangely intimate, and Hux feels something compelling him to relax; to trust Ren. Ren’s words tempt him to give in and to allow the strange longing growing within him to take hold and direct him, but Hux knows he can never do that. Clinging to Ren is one thing, but to actively move closer, seeking more of the alpha’s cool, steadying touch, is completely another. It’s unthinkable. Being an omega – accepting that he’s an omega – is not an option. That’s not who he is.

And yet he still cannot let go of Ren. His body has been hijacked by this terrible change, and he fears separation more than he’s ever feared anything else in his entire life; being alone is more terrible to him in that moment than the prospect of acknowledging his status. The earlier panic has taken too much from him, and he can’t keep a hold of the embarrassment and shame he knows he should feel, and  _ wants _ to feel, for as long as he has those things he’s still himself.

Instead, all he can do is surrender, too lost and too worn down by things he doesn’t understand to fight it any longer. Even as it happens he tells himself he’s imagining it: imagining the way he buries his face that little bit deeper against Ren’s neck, drawing comfort from his scent and the steadiness of his heartbeat; imagining the way Ren’s arms tighten almost imperceptibly around him, sheltering him from the world as if he understands instinctively what it is that Hux needs. He imagines that he isn’t alone and that the terror he’s so afraid of isn’t still there, waiting to claim him again the moment he relinquishes this fantasy, the moment he lets go of something that isn’t even real. He imagines, just for a moment, that he truly is safe.

“Are you finished eating?” Ren asks gently, the question vibrating against Hux’s chest.

It takes a few seconds for Hux to muster a verbal response, and his answer is more a sigh than anything else: “Yeah.” He doesn’t want to think about it, or the way the food he ate sits awkwardly in his stomach. A flutter of panic causes his heart rate to quicken. The real world starts edging back into his awareness, and he wishes he had the strength to fight it.

“I have something for you, if you want.”

Hux considers pulling away, but he doesn’t have the strength for that either. He doesn’t want Ren to see him the way he is: flat and empty, a slave to tempestuous emotions. “What is it?” 

Much to his alarm Ren slowly disentangles himself, and Hux struggles more than he’d like to admit to cope with the loss, whimpering in distress. He’s not sure how to stop Ren going, and feels unbearably bereft when Ren’s comforting touch is gone and the other man moves from the breakfast bar and towards the messy table on the far side of the room. He’s barely gone fifteen standard seconds, and yet in that short space of time Hux feels panic starting to claw at him again. When Ren eventually returns to him Hux’s control has started to slip, and he leans towards Ren, focusing on the item being held out in an attempt to distract himself and stave off the cloying anxiety.

“What is it?” he asks, his throat tight with fear as he takes the surprisingly heavy volume. The black cover is worn, hinting at several years worth of use, and the faded letters spell out the confusing title.

“I thought you’d like something to help pass the time.”

Risking a glance up at Ren, Hux can’t quite understand the way the alpha shifts his weight, watching him closely for a reaction. He looks down at the book again, finding that the weight of  _ Classic Fairy Tales and Legends from Across the Galaxy _ doesn’t comfort him nearly as much as Ren’s touch, but it’s better than nothing so he grips the volume tightly, trying to convince himself that having something solid in his hands will help fight off the waves of unease and confusion trying to reclaim him. He guesses he’s supposed to thank Ren, but he can do little more than stare down at the book, slowly drawing it to himself and hugging it as if that will increase the comfort it can give. He nods absentmindedly, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. The book is a poor substitute but, bereft of Ren, Hux tells himself it will do.

“I should…”

Hux isn’t sure what he should do, and every way his mind turns he’s faced with unpalatable choices. He notices he’s trembling again – or perhaps he never stopped – and the only thing he has the strength to make himself do is sit back down on the chair, eyes staring unseeingly at the spilled rice he really ought to clean up. What he wants is pulling him in two equally terrifying directions: retiring to Ren’s bedroom so that Ren sees nothing of what is happening to him, and gravitating towards the alpha to seek more of the comfort his traitorous body desperately needs. The book is all Hux has to cling to in those few moments, and he holds onto it so fiercely he can feel the muscles in his arms aching with exertion.

Ren’s hand appears in Hux’s line of vision, confidently sweeping the spilled grains into a waiting palm. Hux is being tidied up after like a pathetic child, and his vision swims with acrid tears. His already flushed body prickles with shame, and he screws his eyes shut, ignoring the tear that falls, as he tries to blot out what’s happening. He needs to move away. He needs to run. He needs to hide. The bedroom is  _ just there _ , and yet Hux finds himself completely incapable of moving. He can’t function. Everything within him is broken. Emotions and fears run riot, and he can’t regain control. He needs to be alone, to be removed from everyone and everything, and yet cannot conceive of being parted from Ren. He’s terrified of the loneliness he feels.

“There are some things I need to see to.” Ren’s words frighten Hux, so much so he almost doesn’t register what Ren says next. “Come sit with me?”

Hux, desperate to grasp the lifeline he’s been offered, slips from the stool before he can even nod. He stands so close to Ren their upper arms brush together, and it takes the last of Hux’s self control not to press against Ren, seeking more of the touch he craves.

Ren leads them over to the sofa he’d slept on, and Hux doesn’t think twice before sitting so close to Ren there’s no space between them. The blanket Ren used is caught beneath him, and he doesn’t even care.

“Turn around,” Ren instructs. “Face me.”

Hux’s foot tangles in the blanket as he clumsily obeys, drawing his knees up as he turns to face the wall, and Ren. Before he’s even done Ren opens his arms in invitation, and Hux all but falls against him, realising as he impacts softly against Ren’s chest that he’s still clinging to the book. His arms refuse to ease their death grip on it, so he abandons the attempt to let go and instead nudges his nose against Ren’s neck as the alpha’s arms and scent encircle him, cradling him with a strength that makes Hux sigh, his body trembling with relief. The very last of his control is gone, and with it the man he once was.

\- – — – -

Time takes on a strange, detached quality, and Hux can’t figure out how long he’s remained like this, curled against Ren’s chest and trying to simply exist without thinking. A few times his mind touches on the jarring fact the man holding him is supposed to be Kylo Ren, his antagonistic, uncontrollable and infuriating co-commander, but the image doesn’t fit. There’s a gentleness to the man he’s sheltering against that’s so alien to him Hux can’t remember ever having witnessed it before, in anyone. Fingers that had initially been stroking his hair now rest on Hux’s crown, and the things Ren claimed he needed to see to haven’t materialised. Since sitting down with Hux, Ren has made no move to even pick up his holopad, which Hux is sure rests within easy reach on the cluttered table. Ren seems at peace, content to sit with Hux crushing him for the foreseeable future.

Once or twice Hux tries to to rile himself up enough to move, but he can’t quite do it. The best he manages is a flicker of movement, followed by a defeated sigh. His insides haven’t stopped churning, and his thoughts and feeling are so completely awry he can’t work out what he would do with himself even if he could tear himself away from Ren, so he stays where he is, lost in the haze of emotions and being overtaken by a feverish haze that only Ren’s presence seems to hold at bay.

The fear is never far away. It churns away inside of him, swelling and abating with no discernable pattern, leaving him desperately fighting for control. He clings to the book and screws his eyes closed even tighter, trying to focus on things that will keep the terror from claiming him. The thing he fears is too big, too all-consuming, to have a name, but he can see it, its ugly swallowing emptiness more horrific than even the darkest horrors of the galaxy. It’s only the feeling of Ren against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the patient touch of his fingers and the soft scent of petrichor that keeps Hux grounded, and safe from the terrible thing awaiting him just over the edge of the precipice.

It’s only thanks to Ren he doesn’t fall, and isn’t lost forever. That thought makes Hux give a pathetic shiver, and he sighs wearily against Ren’s collarbone. He can feel more and more of his strength leaving him, and wonders how long it is before the inevitable happens. He’s now too exhausted for the fear to crescendo as it would have done earlier, but it still tears at him.

“We should get something to drink.”

It’s the first time Ren has spoken in a while, and it’s not an entirely welcome distraction. The thought of moving, of being parted from the anchor he’s found, makes Hux whimper helplessly.

“It’s okay,” Ren lies. “You’re alright.”

Ren’s fingers smooth over Hux’s hair again, but the gesture is of little comfort. Hux doesn’t want to name the pathetic thing he’s become.

“Don’t,” he pleads, his voice a cracked whisper. “Please don’t.”

“Okay,” Ren agrees hastily, sounding a little panicked. “Alright. I won’t let go.”

Hux’s arm loosens from the book he’s still holding, and he grasps at the front of Ren’s top as the alpha keeps speaking.

“We need something to drink though. Can you get up? Or shall I— Right, let me get my datapad then.”

Hux’s adamant shaking of his head answers Ren’s question, and he tightens his fist on the ball of fabric he has in his hand as Ren rocks forwards enough to grab his datapad. The loss of the arm around him is disconcerting, and Hux is glad when it settles back into place.

“I hate these things,” Ren mutters, mostly to himself, as he fiddles with the datapad. “I’ll have to change my access codes again.”

“It’s only a droid,” Hux points out, shifting and settling around the familiar outline of the book he still holds. The words are spoken by rote. He has very little opinion on the matter, and, if anything, actually agrees with Ren. He doesn’t want anything from out there disrupting the tentative sanctuary he’s found. He’s not ready for that.

Ren only hums in response, and after setting the datapad down he returns to playing with Hux’s hair. “She said it would be like this.”

Hux’s panic surges. “Who? Who said it would be like what?”

“Merisa. Your medic.”

Hux relaxes a little at the words, and wonders when exactly Ren spoke to the woman. He doesn’t quite get as far as wondering  _ why  _ Ren bothered before Ren continues speaking.

“She said the first few times are going to be almost unbearable.” He sounds unhappy. “And that you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?” The moment he asks the question he regrets it. Hux wishes he could take the words back. He doesn’t want to hear the answer, because he knows what it will be.

Ren, mercifully, doesn’t answer. He stays very still for a moment, and then relaxes with a steady exhale. “She gave me a sedative in case it gets too much. It will help you sleep through the worst of it.”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

“Only if you ask for it.”

“I’ve seen you put people to sleep with just a wave of your hand. Why don’t you just do that?”

“Do you trust me enough to let me do that to you?”

Hux falls silent. Of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t trust Ren in the slightest. Right now he needs him, and for some reason Ren seems to accept that and allows Hux to have what he needs, but Hux certainly doesn’t trust him and is sure he never will. “Did you get anything for the fever?” he asks instead. The fever is far less uncomfortable than the fear and anxiety, but Hux will never openly admit to those, and as a fever is a physical ailment it’s far more easily remedied.

“‘Heat fever’ is a misnomer. You’ll  _ feel _ feverish, but aren’t actually suffering from one. It’s more a neurological response to… to what’s happening than anything else.”

Hux curls even more against Ren, needing the illusion of security the alpha offers. He can’t stand hearing about what’s happening to him. He wishes there were some way to block it all out. There isn’t, though, and as he focuses on the heat coursing through his body he feels despair claiming him. He can’t escape.

“Is there no way…?”

Ren tightens his hold on him. “Just this.”

Hux’s eyes sting with tears again. His body has betrayed him completely. He can’t face what’s happening to him. It’s too awful, too terrible. He needs a way out; a way to make it stop. He needs to work out how to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

A chime announces the droid’s arrival, and Hux pulls away from Ren with a start, finding he’s released without protest. He sits hunched over the book and shivering as he faces the back of the sofa. Ren’s blanket still tangled around his feet. Ren doesn’t leave his side, but leans forward, rubbing his chest as if it hurts as he gives the droid instructions. It’s the book, Hux supposes, or maybe his elbows, that have been digging into Ren for who knows how long. The urge to fit himself back into the space he’s carved in Ren’s arms, regardless of Ren’s discomfort, is almost overwhelming, and to resist it physically hurts. It’s draining. Hux slumps even further over the book, and when a glass of cool water is presented to him he doesn’t think he has the strength to hold it.

“I want it now.” He reaches out tentatively to take the glass anyway, finding that he can manage after all. “The sedative.”

It’s the only way out he has. Even though the water is cool and refreshing, he can’t face a minute more of this. He can’t stand knowing that it’s going to get worse, and that the only thing that will be able to help is Ren, and being close to him, touching him, pressing against him and feeling him  _ right there _ . He can’t stand how much he wants that, and how desperate he is for it. Even now he’s shivering with the restrained urge. He longs for Ren’s touch more than he’s longed for anything before in his life.

“Drink up,” Ren encourages, “then we can go through to your room.”

Relieved to face no resistance, Hux gulps at the water, almost spilling it down his chin. He holds the empty glass out to the droid. “More.”

It’s brought and just as quickly drained, although the cool water has no impact on the burning heat in his core. As Hux tries to turn and stand he realises he’s noticeably trembling, although Ren doesn’t comment. He remains patiently at Hux’s side, close enough for Hux to feel distressed at how desperately he longs to reach out and touch him, and yet not so far as to trigger the fear of loneliness. Still grasping the book to his chest, Hux makes his precarious way across the room and towards the bedroom, eager to have the whole thing over and done with.

“Do I need to roll my sleeve up?” he garbles, sitting stiffly on the bed and trying to stop himself from leaning towards Ren.

“Just a little. It’s a patch.” As he speaks, Ren reaches out for the book, reminding Hux that he’ll have to let go of it. Unhappily, his hold only tightens. “I won’t take it away.”

Whether he will or won’t doesn’t matter as much to Hux as the fact he’ll lose something that’s become an anchor for him. After a moment Ren gives up, his hand falling to his side.

“Lie down, Hux.”

His words are gentle, but the most persuasive thing about his suggestion is the way in which he says Hux’s name: it’s spoken almost reverently, and it’s so unlike any time Hux has heard it spoken before that it sticks in his mind. He opens his mouth to repeat it, and then realises how ridiculous the notion is. Instead he acquiesces, working his way beneath the rumpled covers. The bed smells neutral: of cleaning agents and himself. It’s unwelcoming. He’d rather curl up with Ren, but that’s out of the question.

“Can I sit?”

Hux nods, realising he needs to offer his arm. The mattress dips, inviting him to move towards Ren, and as he works his arm from beneath the covers he at last loosens his hold on the book. With a reprieve from his torture in sight and Ren so close it doesn’t seem so important to cling to the volume. Ren will apply the patch, and within moments the sedative will free him from consciousness.

Cool fingers carefully work the loose fabric of his sleeve even higher, exposing the pale, delicate skin just beneath his inner elbow. Hux is alarmed by just how quickly the heat is taking hold of him, and he gives a low groan of relief as Ren finishes preparing the patch and takes a steady hold of his arm. Calmness radiates from the point at which they touch, and Hux has the urge to draw Ren to him, so, so much closer in order that he might feel that same relief all over.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Ren promises as he positions the patch above Hux’s skin. He carefully pinches the white corner, where the drug won’t seep into his skin.

“Here?” Hux can’t help asking, taking Ren’s words literally.

“Nearby,” Ren corrects, smoothing the sedative down onto Hux’s arm. Despite the roughness of his fingers it feels nice, and Hux sighs in appreciation. This time he doesn’t resist when Ren reaches for the book.

“Stay? ‘Til I’m…”

The drugs are already having an effect, and Hux feels his limbs growing heavier. Despite longing for unconsciousness he can’t help fighting it, yearning to feel Ren’s touch. The book is carefully placed on the bedside table, and then Ren turns back to him.

“Of course.”

Ren responds with a gentle smile on his lips, although Hux’s addled mind reads something sad in the expression. He reaches up, trying to touch it and quantify what exactly it is he saw, but Ren catches his hand before Hux can touch his scar-torn cheek and find any answers.

“’Nfair,” he complains, curling towards Ren. As he can’t touch Ren’s face he pulls Ren’s hand to his own, pressing against it and savouring the touch.

“Sleep,” Ren encourages, allowing Hux to manipulate and cling onto his hand. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Hux is pretty sure he needs Ren right now, but he can’t call to mind the word for whatever it is that’s missing. He can’t get his tongue to move anyway; the sedative is working swiftly, promising him the nothingness he longs for. The last vestiges of fear attempt to surge around him as he thinks of lying alone in this room, removed from Ren, until he wakes alone, but the best that fear can manage is to lap feebly around his ankles, barely felt. He’s safe now. He can let go and sleep.

Merciful darkness stakes its claim on him, and as he at last slips under Hux takes the memory of the way Ren said his name with him. 

\- – — – -

The first thing Hux registers upon waking isn’t the low lighting of the room, or the covers and clothing twisted and tangled around his feverish body; it isn’t even the pervasive thirst or distant hunger. All that he’s aware of is the terrible, consuming need that’s burning him alive. The sedative still clings to him, vestiges of darkness tugging at the edge of his consciousness, but the discomfort – the physical pain he’s in – screams far louder than any synthetic exhaustion. He can’t think. All Hux knows is that he has to move. He has to get up. He has to make it stop.

The covers don’t let him go easily. He fights them, whimpering and sobbing in distress as he grows frantic with the effort. At last kicking himself free, Hux stumbles towards the door, shivering and sweating, his mind devoid of everything but the excruciating need that drives his clumsy movements. He’s burning up. His insides are molten fire, and he blindly gravitates towards the one thing he knows can offer him comfort: Ren.

The room is only a fraction lighter than the bedroom, but Hux sees nothing beyond his goal. Ren lies asleep on the sofa, limbs hanging over the sides, and Hux gives a cry of relief at the sight of him, rushing forwards with even more haste. “Ren.”

At his name the alpha stirs, opening his eyes and looking startled as he sees Hux flinging himself at him. He catches him, arms coming around trembling shoulders, and lies back down, shifting enough to allow Hux’s arms to snake around his back. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his cheek coming to rest on Hux’s head. “You’re alright.”

Hux shifts, wriggling as he frantically tries to work out how to press himself even closer to the alpha. He can’t keep still, the torment within him leaving him discontent with the contact he has and driving him to seek more, always more. He needs more. He has to have it. He can’t exist without Ren pressed against him, surrounding him, possessing him. He needs Ren to claim him, lest he be destroyed by the terrible thing burning him from the inside out.

The sound of his own ragged breathing seems to belong to someone else. As he grasps and claws at Ren, trying to press closer, always closer, Hux doesn’t notice anything beyond his own desperation. He doesn’t notice the sobs rising in his chest, the wetness of his cheeks as he presses against Ren’s neck, chasing his scent, nor does he notice the way his lips form a plea he whimpers between ragged breaths: “Help me.” He’s so consumed by the need to be free of this torture that he blindly follows any impulse that promises to ease his suffering, and he presses and grinds against Ren, torn apart by the shivers of relief that he knows will never be enough to appease the desire he’s slave to.

“It will pass, I promise,” Ren whispers, his own body trembling too. Sensing the response, Hux tries to slot their bodies even further together, his leg pushing between Ren’s and hooking around a strong calf so he can better feel the evidence of Ren’s longing. Ren doesn’t resist, but nor does he engage, and Hux tugs at him. 

“Make it stop,” he pleads, repeating the words until Ren’s hand strokes his hair soothingly.

“I can give you another sedative.”

Hux gives a sob of frustration in response. Some part of him knows he should take the offer, but with Ren so close he doesn’t want to. He wants something else, and is blind to the alternative. In an attempt to make Ren understand, Hux starts tugging at the loose top Ren wears, wanting rid of it.

Ren’s rejection is painful. Hux’s physical distress increases tenfold, and he has to fight even harder to draw breath as a strong hand calmly takes hold of his own and moves it away from the waistline of Ren’s top.

“I can’t do that, Hux.”

Hurt by Ren’s words, Hux pulls back enough to stare up at the alpha, his expression helpless and pleading. “Why not? You don’t want me?”

The hand that stopped his attempt to remove Ren’s top comes up to gently caress Hux’s damp cheek, and Hux stares at Ren’s impossibly dark eyes, his body all the while still pressing against Ren, seeking.

“You said you’d do anything,” he argues, frantic.

“I’m here to keep you safe.”

Hux doesn’t care about safe, he wants to be free of this torment. He shifts determinedly against Ren, unable to understand how the alpha can’t see that the two are intrinsically linked. Ren could help him. Ren could make it stop.

Only Ren won’t. He doesn’t care. He won’t help. He holds Hux tightly only to try and stifle his movement and keep him still, nothing more. He plays with Hux’s hair and nuzzles his temple only to placate him, not because he enjoys the touch. The knowledge is devastating, and frustrated, bitter tears sting Hux’s eyes, his already labouring chest tightens. “Please…”

“A sedative will help,” Ren deflects. “The worst is almost over. You’ll wake up feeling better.”

Hux knows that he can feel better now, if only Ren helps him, but with each passing second spent struggling to win what he needs from the uncaring, dismissive alpha he realises he will never get it. He’s losing. His body continues to burn, blood searing his veins and making him inescapably aware of every part of his need, but there is no relief to be had.

“Let’s go to the ’fresher,” Ren suggests, starting to move. Hux can feel the raw power of Ren’s body as his muscles ripple and tense, and he clings to the alpha and allows himself to be manipulated into a sitting position. In one last, desperate bid for the attention he needs, Hux runs a hand over Ren’s strong back and circles his waist, starting to push lower, but his attempt is stopped just as easily as before, and his hand is deposited against Ren’s neck. Ren truly doesn’t want him.

Resigned, and whimpering pathetically, Hux gives the bare minimum amount of cooperation as Ren gets them both up. Despite the rejection he doesn’t know what else to do other than cling to Ren, desperately hoping he will change his mind. Everything becomes an unhappy, painful blur as he’s coaxed towards the refresher and stood by the sink, Ren only pulling away for a moment as he reaches for something. Water rushes into the sink, and Hux buries his face against Ren’s collarbone in an attempt to steady himself. Ren’s scent is intoxicating, both soothing Hux, reassuring him that he’s in the right place, and inflaming his desire even more. He can barely stand it, and yet to pull away is unthinkable.

Ren, however, seems oblivious to Hux’s suffering. He only gives the slightest of shivers as he holds Hux, deigning to carry on as if he’s not embracing a willing omega flushed with heat, and he shuts the tap off and addresses Hux quite calmly. “Even if you don’t want the sedative this will help.”

Hux hears the wet slap of a cloth hitting water and understands what Ren is doing. With no strong reason to disallow it coming to mind, he obeys when Ren wrings out the cloth and bids him turn his head. A cool flannel gently swipes over his cheek, a stray rivulet dripping from Hux’s chin onto Ren’s top, and Hux leans into the touch, savouring the cold water. Ren repeats the action, refreshing the flannel and working until the tears are gone and Hux’s skin feels a few degrees cooler.

“I’ll take it,” Hux sighs, resting awkwardly against Ren so that nearly all of the water that drips from his face soaks into Ren’s top. Ren seems resigned to his soggy fate, and makes no move to push Hux away as Hux comes to his reluctant decision. Cold water and careful touches bring nowhere near enough relief, and what Hux needs he knows Ren won’t give. “You don’t want me, so…” he draws a shuddering breath, “so I’ll take it.”

Ren keeps quiet, his mouth resting in an unhappy line as he switches the cold flannel for a soft, dry dowel and pats at the moisture lingering on Hux’s skin. When he’s done he strokes Hux’s hair, pushing the damp strands back from his face with careful tenderness, as if a wrong move might upset the balance. Hux doesn’t know what to make of the gesture, but he leans into the contact, fully intent on burrowing into Ren’s neck and hoping for a change in heart.

Ren, however, remains unmoved and has other ideas, and starts to pull away. “I’ll leave you to finish up.”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll be just outside the door.”

Panic returns full-force. Hux doesn’t want Ren to be anywhere other than at his side, and fights the loss. He doesn’t want to let go. He shivers as his wrists are firmly grasped to stop him clinging to Ren’s clothes, and as the alpha draws back half a pace Hux tries to follow, only to find a cruel, invisible barrier pushing against his chest, restraining him. Ren has never used the Force against him before, and it feels like betrayal. Hurt, he stares at Ren.

“It’s just for a moment, Hux. I’m not going anywhere.” Ren has the gall to look apologetic. “I’ll keep talking so you can hear me. You know you slept for thirteen hours?”

The barrier doesn’t disappear, even as Ren moves towards the door. Hux throws all of his growing alarm into defeating it. He can’t move past it. It won’t budge. He stares in horror as the door closes, Ren now on the other side of it, his voice audible but unfairly distant.

“We’ve moved past Ilum and are heading spinward. When you wake up again we’ll be approaching the Frontier Cascade, although I suppose you know it as ILX-37291.”

Defeated, Hux realises that the only way to be free of the restraint is to do as Ren expects. He lets the alpha talk, listening to the low, melodic tone of Ren’s voice just the other side of the door as he struggles with his clothing. His own hand on his heated flesh does nothing to ease the torment, and his state of distress and desperation makes it all the more difficult to relieve himself. Even if the panic would abate enough to allow him to do so, Hux has no desire to jerk off. He wants Ren’s hand, or no one’s.

“I remember when I first saw the Cascade,” Ren continues. “Until then I thought everything worth seeing lay within the Inner Rim. I hadn’t realised there was anything so beautiful out here. It made me wonder what else was waiting to be found.”

There’s a slightest pause as water runs, and Hux plunges his hands into the cold water in the sink, grabbing the sanitiser and scrubbing hastily. If he weren’t so anxious to return to Ren the water might be soothing, but as it is he barely thinks of even its functionality.

“I suppose these things are nothing new to you.” Ren sighs at that, the sound barely reaching Hux’s ears. “We’ll be resupplying at Sullinx, then going to Tamoha to rotate the troops stationed on the moon. Did you know Tamoha is named after an ancient Kitonak deity?”

Hux didn’t know, and he doesn’t care. All he wants to know is if he can reach Ren, and relief washes over him as he tests the air with a barely dried hand and finds it devoid of obstacles. He falls towards the door, already reaching for Ren who is waiting just beyond it. The alpha’s arms wrap around Hux in response, and their bodies fit together as if they’ve always belonged. Hux groans with relief, nuzzling Ren’s neck. He knows Ren won’t help in the way he wants, but having just this little bit of contact eases his torment a fraction.

“Someone named a lot of planets in that cluster after Kitonak deities,” Ren says, mostly to himself. Hux isn’t particularly interested in listening. “I wonder who they were.”

All Hux wonders is if Ren has changed his mind, but his attempt to reach between them is rebuffed again, and he gives an unhappy whine.

“Hux, don’t.”

Hux fists his hands in Ren’s top, caring more about savouring the alpha’s scent and cool touch than he does about where they’re going. Still lost in the dizzying aftermath of his panic, he pays no attention to anything beyond Ren until he realises where they are, and that he’s being coaxed down onto the mattress. He clings to Ren, making it almost impossible for them to be parted, and Ren doesn’t try to separate them with the Force. Instead he sits next to Hux, placing something on his knee before stroking a hand down over Hux’s arm.

“Did you take the last one off?”

“Wha—? No, I didn’t…” The loose fabric of his sleeve is pulled up, and Hux watches as capable, battle-worn fingers tease off the used sedative patch. “Don’t let go?” he suddenly asks, his words rushed and frantic.

“I have to. You need to sleep.”

“No, I mean...” Hux pauses to swallow, turning to bury himself against Ren. “Don’t let go until I’m…”

Ren’s hand returns to Hux’s hair, stroking slowly. “Until you’re asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Drink some of this first though.”

Ren shuffles them further up the bed until he can reach a glass of water Hux hadn’t noticed sitting on the bedside table. It's pressed into Hux's pliant hand and he manages nearly all of the sweet-tasting water before handing the glass back, not really caring where it disappears to. The thunk of it being returned to the table is distant to Hux's mind as he loses himself in Ren’s embrace.

What follows is silence. For several wonderful moments they move only to breathe, Ren’s fingers continuing to smooth over Hux’s hair, and Hux is overcome with calm. The urgency drains away, and he feels safe against Ren’s steadiness and strength. He could exist in this moment for eternity.

Ren eventually breaks the silence, the small movement of his head as he shifts causing his nose to bump against Hux’s neck. “I’m going to put it on now, okay?”

“Yeah…”

It’s not really okay, but Hux understands his choice. Part of him still burns with uncontrollable desire and desperation, but the idea that’s uppermost in his mind is that this embrace – Ren’s closeness, his carefulness – will last those thirteen hours in which he succumbs to the sedative. He doesn’t have to remain awake, tormented by a need that Ren won’t fulfill, but nor does he have to let go.

Ren takes care applying the patch, doing it one-handed, before shifting so that Hux can better lean against him. Following the movement, Hux settles comfortably against the broad, strong chest, feeling the drugs already tugging at him again.

“Sleep well, Hux,” Ren murmurs, his lips somewhere close to Hux’s ear.

Despite himself, Hux can’t help smiling. The response is irrational, especially as his body is enslaved by his heat and worn down by heightened emotions, but it comes so naturally he almost doesn’t realise he’s doing it. His eyes fall closed as he leans even more against Ren.

“I like it when you say my name,” he whispers.

He hears Ren hum in response and feels the deep rumbling in his chest, and is then asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sometimes on [tumblr](http://deluxekyluxtrashcan.tumblr.com) (health permitting!) and always super excited to talk about fic ideas, WIPs, projects, etc!


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